


nightmares

by ivyxwrites



Category: Blue Beetle (Comics), Homestuck, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Crossover, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, and i write a LOT of self-indulgent things, okay this is possibly the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:53:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25500172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyxwrites/pseuds/ivyxwrites
Summary: Jaime wakes up with a start and a dying scream.Whatever he was dreaming about is gone, but the air around him is still suffocating and too warm. The nightmare has left, leaving behind only the budding seed of panic stuck in his sternum and images of his teammates and friends pierced by his own blade on the battlefield.orJaime Reyes and Dave Strider are roommates. They're both hiding secrets, but even the best kept ones tend to come out. Blue Beetle has a nightmare, and his buddy is here to tell him he's not alone.
Relationships: Dave Strider & Jaime Reyes
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> This is, quite honestly, the most self-indulgent fic I have ever written in my entire fandom existence and I literally do not regret a single thing. Don't ask me how this crossover came to be, I honestly have no idea?? But I love them and I love these boys with my whole ass heart. Their friendship is the most wholesome thing to have ever been created by me.
> 
> I haven't decided if Dave and company went through SBURB in this crossover AU, but I know that they do have nightmares about the game. 
> 
> If you're here reading, I hope with all my heart that you enjoy it!

Jaime wakes up with a start and a dying scream. 

  
  


Whatever he was dreaming about is gone, but the air around him is still suffocating and too warm. The nightmare has left, leaving behind only the budding seed of panic stuck in his sternum and images of his teammates and friends pierced by his own blade on the battlefield. Khaji Da chitters data in the back of his brain, trying to boot back up to help with his panic attack, but Jaime’s mind swivels from English, to Spanish, to the sharp consonants of the Reach language in quick succession and nothing his companion is saying processes right in his mind.

  
  


Jaime tosses the blankets aside, his breaths labored and heavy, too loud in his otherwise eerily silent room. The walls curve around him, shadows looking like old enemies and old fears. In a frenzy, he grasps at his nightstand blindly, trying to find his phone so he can call someone, anyone, that can reassure him that it’s alright. That he is, indeed, Jaime Reyes and there’s no one else he could be, because someone had cared about him enough to grab his hand as he was being pulled into the abyss and refused to let go until he was himself again. 

  
  


His hand hits his phone too fast and too hard, and the device clatters to the ground, sliding under the bed to an unknown and impossible to reach location. Jaime let’s out a soft whine in the back of his throat, his voice groggy from sleep and strained from the panic swelling up in his chest. He tries to focus on the constant click-clack coming from his back, or the smoother tone of Khaji’s voice in his brain, but nothing feels real and translation is not a thing that’s happening right now. 

  
  


Oh god, he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe, and the air is too warm, and his room is too small, and the shadows are too big, and he needs to call Tim to ask him if he’s okay, if Jaime hadn’t betrayed them again like he did once, and if contingency plans had been-- 

  
  


“Jaime?” 

  
  


A hand falls on his shoulder, palm and fingertips cold to the touch but perfect against the burning fire of Reyes’ skin. He doesn’t panic about Dave seeing the scarab like usual, as getting his breath under control is much more important right now, but he does turn around in his bed, his body trembling as he tries to get away from his roommate. It takes a while for Jaime to focus his sight on freckled skin and blonde hair, but when he does, it’s like the puzzle pieces in his brain rearrange to coherency again, the sharpness of the image in front of him turning up to 200%, faster than his brain has the ability to process. 

  
  


_[--contacted the Booster Gold for assistance, Jaime Reyes. Please stand by while this scarab tries to regulate the chemical imbalance. Michael Carter has answered our distress signal and is on his way to help. Please stand by while this scarab tries to regulate body temperature. ETA for the Booster Gold is--]_

  
  


“D’ve,” the name comes tumbling out of Jaime’s lips, the consonants slurring and joining together, “What’re you--I woke you?” 

  
  


His roommate is not wearing his sunglasses, Jaime notices. Reyes doesn’t think he’s ever seen the other man without them before, but right now it strikes him how remarkable Dave’s eyes are. The red of his pupils reminds him of Kid Flash’s suit, the metallic sheen of the superhero costume an identical replica of Strider’s eyes. The light from the lamp post right outside his window makes them look strangely mystifying, like Dave isn’t quite from this world. It’s mesmerizing to look into them, and Jaime’s breathing evens out, little by little, as Khaji figures out how to pull him back down to Earth. 

  
  


“That’s fine, bro,” Dave says, shrugging nonchalantly, but without his sunglasses on, Jaime can see the worry lines around his eyes, and he focuses on counting them instead, “I was about to wake up. It’s almost five, anyway.” 

  
  


Jaime doesn’t say anything, not trusting his voice enough to do that, and Dave just stands there, looking tense and a little hilarious in the My Little Pony pajama bottoms and Princess Peach t-shirt his siblings had given him last Christmas. The little details help Jaime calm down enough to effectively process what Khaji Da keeps chittering in his head. 

  
  


_‘Khaji, cancel Booster’s back-up, please,’_ he pleads, feeling exhausted and not ready to explain why or how he knows Booster Gold of all people, _‘Tell him--uh--tell him I’ll get back to him later_.’ 

  
  


His breathing is still a little hard, but it’s managed to calm down enough. The roaring in his ears has subsided, leaving space for the quiet sounds of early morning. The sun isn’t quite out yet, because Dave never wakes up at a normal hour, but some of the earliest life forms are already stirring in their nests and burrows. Some crickets still play their instruments, a few bird chirps accompanying the staccato melodies produced by the insects. Jaime tries to take in a deep breath, but it’s shaky and unstable. 

  
  


_[This host’s health and safety is this scarab’s responsibility,]_ Khaji Da reminds him, and Jaime thinks he sounds a little hesitant while he says this, _[Is Jaime Reyes sure that he wants me to cancel the request?]_

  
  


_‘Please, Khaji,’_ Jaime asks again, wincing slightly at the upset chirp his back gives, _‘I can’t explain to Dave why Booster Gold is coming through my window.’_

  
  


There’s a prolonged silence. Dave is still standing at the door, and Jaime’s breaths are still coming in in short puffs. The beetle whirs on his back, and Khaji finally acquiesces, announcing they’ve cancelled backup. Jaime wonders if Michael is still gonna sneak in through his window later or if the older superhero will actually listen to his message. 

  
  


“Hey, man,” his roommate says, sitting down carefully at the edge of Jaime’s bed, “I don’t want to make this awkward or anything, but we’ve been living together for a little while now and I’m just--” Dave’s voice trails off, his eyes not meeting Jaime’s again, “I just want to make sure that you’re alright.” 

  
  


Jaime doesn’t answer, still trying to get his breathing under control. Khaji has resorted to counting out numbers in his head to help him. Four second inhale, six seconds hold, eight seconds exhale. He repeats the pattern a couple more times before Dave is speaking again. 

  
  


“I know you have something going on for you, Reyes,” he says, “I know you come home very late some nights and I know sometimes you won’t even sleep. I’m not asking you to explain any of that to me, because I’m not the type of guy to poke at your past or whatever, but I--I’m here for you, I guess. If you needed anyone to listen, I know a thing or two about nightmares.” 

  
  


It occurs to Jaime that nightmares are a recurring thing in this apartment. He’s heard Dave have some of his own, late at night when he’s sneaking back in through the window after a mission, his roommate’s voice coming in short spurts from his bedroom on the other side of the hallway. Blue Beetle had never interfered before because he felt like it might be a thing his roommate wouldn’t want to talk about, but Dave was here now, sitting on his bed, looking at Jaime earnestly and sincerely. Jaime feels like a bit of a jerk now. 

  
  


Reyes knows nightmares are a thing he can avoid, especially in times of high stress. When he knows that there might be something horrible waiting for him when he closes his eyes, Jaime will avoid sleep at all costs. On nights when sleep is worse than reality, he’ll pour his energy and time into his college workload, making sure to have 15 minute naps between the end of one day and the beginning of the next. The scarab helps him function at full capacity despite his body’s restrictions, but there was only so much his partner could do for him before his unhealthy lifestyle caught up to him. 

  
  


Tonight, sleep couldn’t be avoided. The scarab had chided him all the way from base to his apartment about how his performance on the battlefield was lacking, spewing statistics at him that didn’t quite process in Jaime’s head. When he’d arrived home, a little earlier than usual, Dave had still been working through a paper in his room, and Reyes had conked out the minute he’d made it to his bed. He thought, being so tired, he might be able to avoid the dreams. He hadn’t slept very well for a little over three days. 

  
  


“I’m--” Jaime tries to say something, maybe apologize to Dave for having woken him up before his alarm sounded, but the words get lodged in his throat. The scarab deploys a piece of his armor, cold metal coming to press against the curve of his neck and the curve of his spine, where Strider couldn’t see it. The sensation is welcomed, even if it makes Jaime stress about Dave finding out his secret ID. 

  
  


“Remember the first day we moved in together?” Dave asks, eyes lost somewhere in the darkness of Jaime’s room, “When we kind of awkwardly came to the door at the same time and shook hands and introduced each other for the first time after talking on the internet for a while?” 

  
  


Jaime nods, the knot in his throat easing up. 

  
  


“That day, we fell asleep on the couch, remember?” Jaime nods again, “We didn’t unpack a single one of our remaining boxes even though we could’ve done that since they weren’t many, and we just passed out right on the most uncomfortable piece of furniture we have ever owned.” 

  
  


Jaime smiles shakily. He remembers that day, mostly because of how chaotic it has been with thirteen people coming and going from the front door to the street downstairs where the Jaime’s and Dave’s pick-up trucks had parked right in front of the apartment complex.

  
  


Jaime’s family had wanted to come help him with moving, and Tim, Cassie and Bart had all turned up at his doorstep early to lend a hand as well. Gar had been thankfully absent from the mix, but not for a lack of trying, he remembers; the shape shifter had a previous engagement to be at in Vlatva, and had had to skip on moving day. Meanwhile, Dave had turned up with his three siblings and two other people holding boxes and suitcases. They’d said hello at the beat-up welcome mat in front of their entrance and had exchanged the most awkward of introductions. 

  
  


Dave had _swords_ , something his mother had been conflicted about when she first saw them in the box, and he had turntables that took eons to get through the door. His older brother was kind of scary, but his sisters made up for Dirk’s weird stares and dead-pan commentary by chatting with Milagro and showing her pictures of their countless cats. Jade, Dave’s friend, had hit it off with Bart almost immediately, as the two talked a mile a minute about science-y stuff while they put out boxes and unpacked them in the kitchen. Tim had worked to set up all the electronics around the house with Dirk’s help, while Cassie and John (the two strongest in the room) had helped with what little furniture both Strider and Reyes had brought along to furnish the apartment. 

  
  


When their families and friends were gone and the AC Dirk and Alberto had installed had finally kicked in, Dave and Jaime had tumbled to the couch in front of a turned off TV and stared vacantly into the shiny surface. Dave had commented on Bianca’s snacks that they’d shared earlier and Jaime had told him to tell Rose he appreciated the scarf she had knitted for him even if it was summer and they barely knew each other. In five minutes, they had fallen silent and into a deep slumber. 

  
  


“I woke up that morning with a blanket on me,” Dave snorts softly, “You did breakfast for us and it was like I’ve known you my entire life. It was nice to have that familiarity with someone that wasn’t John or Jade or my siblings.” 

  
  


“Yeah,” Jaime finally finds his voice, raw and shaky, buried somewhere under the fear that’s slowly starting to subside, “I had that feeling, too. My mom likes to say we found each other because we needed to.” 

  
  


Dave smiles at this. One of the private tug of lips that Reyes has been privy of on just a handful of occasions, but none of them had really been directed at him before. The buzz in his head subsides, leaving space for Khaji to soothe and heal the remnants of a bad night. Jaime takes in a deep breath, steadily, and let’s it out in kind. 

  
  


“You don’t need to tell me what’s going on with you,” Strider says, turning red eyes to stare at Jaime, “I understand that it’s somewhat difficult for you to talk about--and hell, I know I have a hard time talking about anything at all where feelings are involved--but you don’t have to spend the difficult nights alone. I’m literally just one hallway away--that’s like a goddamn meter--we can chill in our pajamas in front of the TV or I can help you do homework, or whatever it is you do on those nights. You just--” Dave stops for a second looking down at his hands, as if searching for the right words between his fingers, “You don’t need to be alone, Jaime.” 

  
  


Jaime thinks Dave has never been more sincere with him than right now. The softness of his voice isn’t precisely new, but there’s an underlying feeling of sadness that makes Reyes believe that his roommate might just care about him more than he initially thought. 

  
  


Ever since he got the scarab attached to his back, Jaime had found it difficult to make friends outside of his social superhero circle. Brenda and Paco had been there way before Jaime became Blue Beetle, and Tye had gotten powers thrust at him, too, so he’d never had to worry about them finding out. Everything else seemed complicated somehow, not quite real to him in the way his friendship with the Team was. He even felt more at peace in the Garrick’s home than he did in a room full of people his age nowadays. 

  
  


It was different with Dave, he decided. Strider didn’t go around poking at his life, and he didn’t seem interested in finding out what was that kept Jaime awake all through the night sometimes. The other man had his own set of demons, the half-broken screams in the middle of the night and his insistence for routine were enough to show the man carried a burden, but he barely ever let them show on purpose. Jaime looked at Dave some mornings, and thought he recognized the bags under his eyes and the strain of his shoulders intimately. 

  
  


_Oh,_ Jaime’s brain supplied one day, _it’s you, bobo. I recognize you from the mirror._

  
  


Kinship, his mother had called it. 

  
  


“C’mon,” Dave says, suddenly, back to his usual self as he throws a nonchalant smirk over his shoulder, standing up from the bed, “There’s cake in the fridge from the last time John’s dad visited and Roxy sent me a new videogame she wants me to try out.” 

  
  


“Your morning run?” Jaime can’t even string words properly right now, which he finds ridiculous, “It’s almost five.” 

  
  


“Bluh,” Dave’s exclamation is strange and feels out of place, but Jaime laughs, “I can miss my morning run once, okay? I’m already fit as a fiddle, nothing to worry about--where does that phrase even come from? Fit as a fiddle? That doesn’t even make sense. It’s like, why would a violin be ripped? Why would we want to be as ripped as a violin? Is there anyway to date back these strange sayings and figure out why we use them? Like ‘the bee’s knees’? What the fuck is that about?” 

  
  


“There’s Google for that,” Jaime reminds him, uncurling from his position on his bed to follow Dave down the hallway, “Or your sister, cause I’m sure Rose knows everything.” 

  
  


_[Jaime Reyes, it is this scarab’s duty to remind you that your secret ID might still be at risk. Suggested tactic: wear a shirt.]_

  
  


Blue Beetle backtracks, grabbing at his discarded shirt from yesterday, tucked somewhere under his bed. He pulls it over his head, and Khaji deploys another set of armor plates over his shoulders and down his lower back. He’d once told his scarab how the pressure of metal calmed him down, and Khaji Da had used it plenty more times to bring him back from a panic attack or a dissociative episode. Jaime thanks his partner and steps out of his room and into the hallway. 

  
  


Dave’s still ranting somewhere in the kitchen while he pulls out the aforementioned cake from their refrigerator. The TV light spills out onto the carpeted floor and the couch (the new one, more comfortable because their last one had been horrible), and Jaime walks out to the living room. The seed of panic that had bloomed right under his chest uncoils from around his heart and leaves him feeling a little exhausted, but he follows Dave into the kitchen to help him grab plates and glasses of apple juice.

  
  


His roommate can talk a mile a minute, just like Bart, but Dave Strider is just a regular guy, at the end of the day. He was born and raised in Houston, had three best friends (one of whom was his twin sister), and studied archeology at Ivy University. Dave would sometimes play his music too loud during the evenings Jaime wanted some peace and quiet, and he could only cook five dishes, two of which Reyes had taught him himself. He was sometimes messy, a little socially inept, and woke up at five o’hell in the morning to go run every single day. 

  
  


As Jaime sits down on the couch and is passed a piece of red velvet cake, Dave swings his leg over the cushions to prop them in Reyes’ lap. Blue Beetle laughs, shaking his head, and his nightmare lays forgotten in the depths of his brain. Khaji Da works on deleting it, even if they know the images will come back eventually, and chitters angrily at the “blatant disrespect from the roommate”. 

  
  


Reluctantly, they add, _[All things considered, it seems the David Edmund Strider is proving to be a decent living companion.]_

  
  


Jaime is inclined to agree, as he pops a piece of cake into his mouth and laughs when Dave’s character gets immediately killed on screen. 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how many fun facts I have about this story, but I'll try:
> 
> -Dave and Jaime have been living together for a little under a year. They know about each other's nightmares, but both of them are too socially inept to actually try to reach out. Initially, I was gonna have Jaime take the first step, but I think it would've been more meaningful for him to receive help when he wasn't expecting it? I don't know how to explain it, I just thought it would be nice to have Dave make that first step into an actual friendship. 
> 
> -This story can be set in the same universe as [glitter (silent confessions)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24905386) and [& crimson (caught in the tension)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24956635) which is why they both have references to a David, who is Jaime's roommate. Didn't want to make it too obvious, but I loved this crossover even then. This story would be set way before glitter & crimson. 
> 
> -JohnDave and Bluepulse are eerily similar pairings. I found out this quarantine I have a type for OTPs and it's red and blue coded ships who are best friends and who fit the idiots to lovers trope. Bonus points if the red one is taller than the blue one at any point in time. It's probably how I ended up in this AU. 
> 
> -I'm already thinking about a sort of sequel for Jaime coming to help Dave out of one of his nightmare, and I'm planning on making it EXTRA soft because that's what Dave deserves. 
> 
> -John's dad coming to visit Dave in his new apartment? Look, Dadbert is canonically the best dad and he just adopted all the kids. He just wants them all to be okay. He's the only adult around here and he will take care of all them kids. He checks up on all of them every once in a while to make sure they're doing good, and he bakes personalized cakes. Dave and Jaime? Living their best lives getting cake every month or so. 
> 
> -Jaime's mom was so scared when she saw the swords, she almost made Jaime move out right that instant, but Jaime insisted and now Bianca has adopted another one of Jaime's friends because that's what Bianca Reyes does. Dave actually really loves Jaime's mother. 
> 
> -Rose knitted Jaime a scarf and put a note on it: "I commend you for even trying to get along with my brother in close quarters. Good luck." and Jaime never forgot about it. Just like Bianca adopted Dave, Rose and Roxy have also adopted Jaime into the Striders. Dirk is a little harder to convince, but he's civil enough. 
> 
> -John and Bart get along but also they fuck with each other a lot. Like A LOT. They're always bantering whenever they see each other. Jaime and Dave thinks it's funny.


End file.
